How The Master Stole Christmas
by enchantment1972
Summary: A story told in the style of that favorite old tale. The Master is determined to ruin U.N.I.T.'s Christmas no matter what. But does he succeed and or does the Doctor's Christmas spirit win him over in the end?


**Author's Note:** I know it's not the right season, but I'd like to think that we carry the holiday spirit in our hearts all the time. Besides, when I saw my daughter reading How The Grinch Stole Christmas as I watched Dr. Who, I thought who better a villain than the Master to play that part. And for me, it has always been Roger Delgado as the quintessential Master. So, when I really thought about it and because he and Jon Pertwee's Third Doctor had such perfect chemistry, I wanted to pay a little tribute to that. So here it is.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own anything in relation to Dr. Who or Dr. Seuss.

Every member of U.N.I.T. looked forward to Christmas each year,

They all celebrated joyously, unaware that the Master was near.

Their enemy was never far off as much as they wished him away,

So they rejoiced in their festivities while he schemed on how to attack them this day.

He stood off in the distance staring down at the organization he had come to despise,

Plotting the retrieval of his stolen circuit that the Doctor had taken, allowing him to dematerialize.

The Master loathed this planet and all it held dear,

Groaning in disgust while he watched them sing carols and spread Christmas cheer.

He thought back on his incarceration when he first viewed the Clangers,

Filled with revile at the wretched versions of a human repast, like Toad in a Hole and mash with their bangers.

His revulsion fueled his fury and steeled his determination,

As his brilliant mind devised a plan that would destroy their abhorrent elation.

Perhaps an invasion of monsters, a new virus or machine,

But whatever he chose, it must be quite mean.

He slowly rubbed his gloved hands together while working out the method of their great fall,

And though it was rumored that he had two hearts, you'd think he'd had none at all.

"Look at them frolicking about!" he scoffed and berated with a sneer. "Well, let them look forward to Father Christmas although it will be the Master who will appear. I'll lay out the bait and set out my trap and catch them all by surprise as if they were just awakening from a nap."

So he stood there and pondered what he could do and how much it would cost,

And would he be able to obtain assistance, who hadn't he double crossed?

With a sigh of regret that he couldn't start right away,

He turned away from his enemies and looked forward to a new day,

His gaze scanned the nearby parking lot in search of his next transport, and then with a smile most cunning,

The Master boldly appropriated a black limousine, as it was most befitting his status and he had never been fond of running.

The next morning, U.N.I.T. gathered in the mess hall and sat down to their feast,

Piling helpings of turkey, stuffing, puddings onto their plates and mince pies, three at least.

There were pork pies, treacle tarts and sausage rolls too,

All the tables overflowed with food, they didn't know what to do.

So they cast their eyes towards the Doctor, whose brilliance rivaled that of Inspector Morse,

And he suggested with a touch of exasperation, "Well, what are you all waiting for? Tuck in, of course!"

Shouts of 'Happy Christmas' rang throughout the room and the eggnog flowed free,

Sergeant Benton held up a sprig of mistletoe and asked, "Who's first?", to which the Brigadier swiftly replied, "Not me."

Then Captain Yates nicked his mistletoe and gave Jo Grant a kiss on the cheek,

He drew back with a swagger until she announced, "My turn!" and gave him a snog that left him quite weak.

Thus Mike smiled dazedly into the distance as Jo bore a smirk,

While John rapidly offered his services to Jo in order to finish Mike's work.

The Brigadier leaned towards Doris as they pulled apart a Christmas cracker and he gallantly adorned her with a paper hat,

And she whispered conspiratorially, "Don't worry, Alistair, I have plenty of mistletoe back at my flat."

Meanwhile the Doctor wore a distasteful grimace as he hazarded a guess,

After one taste of his food, he knew why they had christened the U.N.I.T. hall a mess.

A disturbance across the room drew everyone's attention as a young soldier complained, "Oh no! This old television set's done for; it's only giving off static and snow!"

"Well, I'm no T.V. repairman," declares the Doctor while whipping out his sonic, "but I'll give it a go!"

At this moment, the Master strolled into the party wearing a military disguise,

Greeting U.N.I.T. members and their family nonchalantly, his expectations began to rise.

He would finally even the score, he thought with fiendish glee,

For when the Doctor had posted fliers of his dematerialization circuit all over town, the caption reading 'Has anyone seen me?'

The Master then weaved effortlessly through the crowd until he was standing at the Doctor's back,

Slowly withdrawing a piece of alien technology that he had bought from some drifter named Jack.

Then all of a sudden and without looking back, the Doctor did reach,

Snatching the tech out of his hand while murmuring, "Why thank you, old chap, this is just what I need! Now we can watch the Queen's speech!"

The Master's own speech had went missing so he turned on his heel,

Leaving at once, he decided that he needed further planning and with much greater zeal.

He required somewhere quiet, a place he could think,

To strategize and conspire something so evil that it would drive them to the brink.

A place considered inconspicuous, where no one would go and where he could dream big,

And that's how the Master ended up with his feet on the desk belonging to the Brig.

He removed a cigar from him inner coat pocket, which he casually lit,

Lazily he blew out concentric Gallifreyan script into the air while he explored his great wit.

Should he have Bessie impounded? No, that seemed too brash,

Although it would be quite amusing to watch as the Doctor attempted to come up with the cash.

Sitting down wasn't helping him; it called for movement to inspire,

Pacing faster and faster to formulate a plan most dire.

Motivation he had in abundance, it was a muse he seemed to lack,

So he searched the Brig's office to place his thoughts back on track.

Ransacking cabinets and drawers, he happened upon the Brigadier's private stash,

Discarding the liquor immediately into the waste bin after a brief inspection, it landed with a crash.

He played darts, he played cards and he went through the Brig's coat pockets,

Loosened the wheels on his desk chair and re-wired the electrical sockets.

Finishing with 'The Master Was Here', that he lasered onto the back of his door,

Satisfied that he had passed the time quite well and imagining the Brigadier's roar.

Hearing voices and footsteps fast approaching, he sprinted away,

Lurking around the corner and awaiting the angry promises that someone would pay.

Chuckling inwardly while he blackened their Christmas most white,

He held his breath as they turned on the light.

The Brig and the Doctor took in the state of the room and noted the booze in the bin,

And with a defeated sigh, the Brigadier groused, "I see that the janitor's been in."

The both sat down to enjoy the Gallifreyan wine from the TARDIS, they laughed and drank without care,

While the Master stood outside fuming with thirst, he hadn't thought to check there.

Then the final indignity as the door remained open against the wall,

His message was unread, no one to appreciate his elegant scrawl.

Rushing out of the building, his frustrated cry resonated throughout the valley and reached the ears of all men,

Except for the Doctor who wondered, _I thought I heard something…oh, never mind then._

Hours later, the Master snuck back into U.N.I.T. and then back out with a prize,

It was a package marked 'Top Secret' for all prying eyes.

Ripping off the wrapping, he pondered the terror that he could unfurl,

Until he became frozen at the sight of a child's record featuring Secret Squirrel.

A card was attached which set him to grieve,

Stating 'Happy Christmas, Myron!' from Uncle Steve.

Well, that was just perfect, he felt really quite thick,

He suspected that the Doctor had something to do with this and that he had laid out this trick.

Snapping the record in half, he then threw it down and stomped it to bits,

And he yelled and he cursed and he almost called it quits.

But then he recalled that he was the Master and he wasn't prone to fits,

He briskly composed himself, he wouldn't give any satisfaction to those smiley faced gits.

As the night became later and later, with everyone preparing for bed,

Realizing Christmas would soon be over, the Master began to see red!

Refusing to admit defeat, he headed back to U.N.I.T. with a grunt and a hiss,

He was a Time Lord for Rassilon's sake, he was better than this!

Now, time was of the essence, what could he create?

He must think of something, this just couldn't wait!

Because his ire and annoyance was growing and he needed to sate,

The constant aggravation of this burning hate!

He boiled and stewed as he walked on and on, readying for a fight, until he suddenly halted to see such a sight,

Of the last of the late nighters gathered under the lampposts while they caroled about some silent night.

When the next song began and they sang the first 'Hark!',

The Master withdrew one of his devices and plunged the Doctor's precious Whovians into the dark.

But they continued their singing as if the dark had no bearing,

They kept laughing and chanting and swaying and _caring!_

And then their last lyric was sung and he could just overhear,

"Doctor, could the Master be behind this?" uttered from the somewhat sensible Brigadier.

"No, I don't think so," answered the Doctor as he tugged on his ear,

While the Master clenched his fists in anger and seethed at the man who everyone considered his peer!

He stormed down the hill and blasted the gates,

Aimed and waved his tissue compressor around at the group, forcing the Brigadier to call off Benton and Yates.

"What does it take for you to see reason, Doctor?" yelled the Master. "Do I need to find you a seer?"

"_**I'm**_ the one who is responsible for today's misery! Do you see it now? Since _**I'm standing right here?"**_

"Of course, I've seen it," replied the Doctor smoothly. "Who else could it be?"

He then crossed his arms with a smug expression and inquired tauntingly, "But why should I go to all the bother of tracking you down when I can simply lure you to me?"

The Master's mouth fell open as the Doctor revealed, "In fact, in the spirit of Christmas, I created a map,"

"That record you stole would have led you to your lost circuit; it was right in your lap."

Seeing that the Master's guard was down, the soldiers seized the opportunity to pounce and soon the evil Time Lord was cuffed,

Directing glowers at the Doctor and his friends, who looked quite self-satisfied and chuffed.

"Now don't be like that," soothed the Doctor as he reached into his pockets and offered him a peace offering in place of doves,

Captain Yates was kind enough to open the box for him and proclaimed, "Look everyone, it's a pair of new gloves!"

Days later, the Master escaped, much to the Doctor's surprise,

He had thought that the Master would escape much sooner and fretted if the gloves had been the right size.

However, he was quite astounded when dear Lethbridge-Stewart presented him with a gift from his old foe,

That was ever so thoughtful of him, he was almost sorry that he had to go.

First, he checked it very carefully with his sonic screwdriver,

Thus, he lifted the lid in suspense to see if it had cost more than a fiver.

And then the Doctor finally had his answer, if the Master did care,

As he grimaced in disgust at the box, for inside it, was one lonely overripe pear.

**THE END**


End file.
